October Skies
by sirscoobertmcdoo
Summary: Two boys suffering from addiction find love in the most unlikely of places: rehab.
1. Chapter 1

**Alois Trancy**

"So, why do _you_ think you're here?" a middle aged blonde woman asks me in what's supposed to be a soft and nurturing tone. To me she just sounds patronizing. She came into my room only moments ago, right when I woke up. I don't answer her, instead I just look down. I'm in the psyche section of the emergency room right now, sitting on a small cot with scratchy bedding in an all white room that can't be more than a 6 by 6. My legs dangle over the edge and I swing them back and forth, trying uselessly to amuse myself. There's a camera in the corner attached to the ceiling that points right at the head of the bed; no privacy here. The florescent lights are too bright and agitating the already awful headache I have. The guy in the room next to mine is screaming and banging on walls. It makes me want to smash my head through a window but there isn't one present and that would only make them think I'm crazier than they do already, so I try to ignore it. There's a clock outside my room that says the time is 11:13pm but I don't know how long I've been here. I was passed out until about 10 minutes ago. Days could have passed for all I know.

"Alois?" the lady questions, trying to get my attention. I grace her with a glance up before I once again advert my eyes downward. I don't want to talk. "We can't move you along until we evaluate you, and in order to do that I need you to talk to me," she tries.

I offer a shrug, I don't know what else to do. I don't want to think about everything that happened.

"You don't know why you're here?"

I glance at her again then look straight forward at the wall where I fix my vision. I've been staring at the floor for a while, I need a change of scenery.

"Do you remember anything?" Yes, right up until I blacked (or maybe passed) out. I wish I didn't. "You were pretty intoxicated when you came in." The headache is enough of a reminder. "Well, if you're not ready to talk, how about I go get us some food from the cafeteria? You must be hungry." Not really.

She gets up and leaves, offering me another smile as she walks out of my room. I hear her tell the screaming guy no one is going to process him until he calms down. There's a moment of silence followed by a crash, the click of her heels running away, and guards running into the guys room. There's more yelling and the guards say something about giving him 'the juice'; after a few thumps and screams there's finally silence and I lay back on my bed kicking my legs up. The hospital gown I have on opens in the back but I don't care enough to fix it.

I scrunch my eyes shut but when images of what happened begin to play I viciously rub at them, as if scrubbing my eyeballs out with my fists will cause the flashback to stop.

It doesn't work.

When the lady returns about 10 minutes later with disgusting hospital food I force my eyes open and sit up. My hospital gown shifts again probably giving her, the camera and anyone who's looking a nice view of my goods. It doesn't bother me – enough people have seen everything already; a few more can't hurt. Right?

She sets the food down on the small metal table and pushes it in between us, before she settles back into the very uncomfortable look plastic chair.

"Are you ready to talk yet?"

I just stare blankly at the food and poke and push at it with my pointer finger.

"You really should eat something, you've been out for almost 48 hours now."

That long? Why do I still have this headache?

"Is eating something you struggle with, Alois?" She tilts her head at me, eyes large with what is probably fake compassion.

I shrug at her and wipe my finger on the bedding, staining the pristine white with repulsive mashed potatoes.

She scribbles something down and looks back up at me. "If you won't talk to me how about I call your brother in so he can tell me what happened and we can get you moving?"

Has he been here the whole time? I nod.

"Okay, I'll go get him from the waiting room." She get up and leaves again, both of our meals untouched.

I do fix my gown now, shifting uncomfortably.

Barely a minute later Luka rushes into the room and throws his arms around me.

"Oh god, you're ok! They wouldn't let me come back until they deemed you stable. I'm so sorry I couldn't be here with you!" he gushes, arms tightening around me. I feel dampness on my shoulder and I know he's crying. I'm still for a moment before I hug him back, relishing in the scent of him: home.

"Luka, do you think you could tell me what happened?" the woman reminds us of her presence. "Alois isn't ready to talk yet but I still want to get him processed and out of here." Luka pulls away from me.

"Alois you don't mind, right?" he asks, trying to make eye contact with me. I bury my hands in my face again and shake my head wildly. I don't want to think about it and I don't want to hear about it. Luka puts his arm around me again. "What if I go tell her in the hall? I'm sure you want to leave, yeah?" He can sense my embarrassment. I shrug and nod to that suggestion.

He and the lady walk into the hall. I can hear my brothers soft voice and her nasily one though they're muffled and I can't quite make out what they're saying. I just want to go home. I want to go home and drink and get high and fuck. I want to forget everything. I can't forget everything if I'm stuck here and sober! Fuck, where are my clothes? I had half a gram of coke on me before I blacked out. I'm frantically looking around the room. They have to be here somewhere! Outside the open door of my room and a male nurse is sitting and reading a magazine. There's a bag next to him. That's my stuff. Definitely my stuff! Before I can even think about what I'm doing I'm getting up and lunging out of my room and toward the bag, ripping into it. There's yelling immediately and the sound of people running. I don't care. If I can get to my drugs I can forget and if I forget I'll be ok. Why didn't I think of this right when I came too?

Luka is calling my name and the staff is shouting and running. All the noise seems distant though.

Suddenly arms are pulling me away and I realize I can't get to my drugs. I can't get to my safety. There's screaming and swearing and I realize it's me. I'm hitting everyone who's grabbing at me and pulling me away from my salvation. I'm feeling light headed and I'm shaking and suddenly I can't breathe. Oh fuck, I can't breathe! Shit, shit, shit!

I'm laying belly down on the hospital hallway floor screaming and crying with drool and snot and tears all over my face with my gown half off when I realize that this is a problem. I have a problem. A serious fucking problem.

It's mid afternoon the next day when they tell me I'm going to be going to a residential treatment center.

"Two years minimum stay," the lady, who's name is Tracy, tells me. "When you passed out at home before you came here the cops and ambulance showed up to your house. You were clearly intoxicated so they did search you but ultimately decided rehab would be a better option than sending you to jail," she explains.

Its early evening when Tracy comes back and tells me to dress, that the bus to take me to the center is here. "It's going to be almost an 6 hour trip, but you won't be alone. We have another patient here that will be heading up tonight as well."

As soon as I'm clothed I'm being escorted by two guards and Tracy down the hallway where I had my breakdown, out through the lobby and into the pick up/drop off area. There's a large white van that says 'Redwood Pines' on it with a simple cartoon of three pine trees and lake. Tracy trots up to the van while one of the guards slowly guides me over with his hand on my shoulder as if I'll run any second. A week ago I would have. Now I don't even have the willpower.

I board the van, no one else is on it yet.

"Other passenger will be here in a moment," one of the guards says.

I stare out the window, contemplating everything. I have a problem. I'd be stupid to deny it at this point. Do I want help for it? Help to pull myself out of the hole I have dug and stop this vicious cycle? …No. I don't think I do. I just want to be left to wallow in my own misery. If I had the choice, I probably would deny the help they're trying to give me but it's this or jail. I know I wouldn't last long in prison. I know I would be torn apart. My ex had been to prison twice. He told me the few guys they get that look like me (smaller and on the feminine side) instantly become a – as he so nicely put it – 'cum bucket'. Maybe I could last in prison. If I slept with everyone they'd probably keep me alive. It's not like I had much standards or morals before. Oh god, am I seriously considering prison to avoid rehab?

My thoughts are interrupted by someone climbing into the bus. I look over and see the guy who had been screaming in the room next to mine. I nod in acknowledgment of him. He grins back at me, resembling a devil more than anything.

Of course angry-screaming-devil guy decides to sit in the seat right next to me when there is a whole bus full of empty seats. "What's your name?" he asks.

Closer up I can see his eyes are a deep brown with almost a reddish tint and his black hair is incredibly messy, way over and greasy, as if he hasn't showered in days. He probably hasn't, I remind myself, they don't give you showers at the ER. I study him closer, noticing the dark bags under his eyes and the bit of stubble on his chin. His skin is breaking out and though he can't be older than his early 20's he has premature wrinkles in the corner of his eyes and around his mouth. They're barely noticeable, but none the less there.

"…Alois," I answer him softly. I'm not normally meek, but I'm also not normally sober. I don't know myself off drugs, I begrudgingly realize.

"I'm Sebastian." He sticks out a pale and trembling hand for me to shake. I take it, noticing how cold and dry his hand is. He offers another smile, and up close it looks much more sad than frightening.

"Nice to meet you," I say and try to smile back.

As bus starts to move and we both take a deep breath. This is really happening.

I can see the crowds out and about enjoying the night life of downtown Chicago as we drive down Lake Shore Drive. I used to be part of those crowds. By the look on Sebastian's face I can tell he longs to join them as well.

"Heh, looks like we won't be out at bars or anything for a while," he says, trying not to let on how clearly sad he is about that fact.

"…Yeah," I agree. I tear my eyes away from the city and instead look at my own hands. They're shaking too. Not as bad as Sebastian's, but still twitching out of my control.

"Why are you going?"

"Drugs," I answer bluntly.

"Well, duh, that's one thing everyone at Redwood has in common. I've been here before, when I was about 18. Didn't work too well obviously – heh heh. Did you check yourself into the ER?"

I shake my head viciously, "Why would I do _that_?"

Sebastian shrugs. "I checked myself in," he tells me.

"What?" I'm surprised, with all the screaming he was doing.

"Yeah. I knew I'd never get through with drawls on my own, barely got through them at the hospital."

"That explains the yelling," I mutter.

"Heh, sorry about that. Not my brightest few days." Sebastian looks down at his lap, clearly embarrassed.

"It hasn't been mine either," I admit.

 _Redwood Pines Residential Treatment Center for Addiction_. It's carved artfully on to a wood sign, fitting the Wisconsin northern woods setting that the center is apparently located in. It's the middle of the night and we're finally here. There is no way out.


	2. Chapter 2

It's 10:30pm when Sebastian and I are escorted by a small energetic blonde woman, who introduces herself as Carla, into Redwood Pines. The place looks more like a large old fashion lake house than a treatment center, sitting on a hill secluded by forest and in front of a lake with a private beach.

"Redwood is specifically for young men so everyone here is ages 16 to 35," she tells us. "Since this is residential you have a lot less restrictions here than you would in a hospital psychiatric unit. This building was actually built in the 1940's as a vacation home," she confirms my theory. "The owners of the center thought it would be a more comfortable setting to recover in."

We're brought through the mudroom and into a cozy and rustic looking living room. It does surprise me. I was expecting sterile and white walls like the hospital but this just looks like any other lake house.

"Why don't you two sit here and wait for Jeff to come and do your intake paperwork," Carla gestures to a large and very cushy and comfy looking cream colored couch before disappears up the large staircase. There's a woven blanket over the top which Sebastian drapes over himself when he sits down and curls up into himself. I sit down on the opposite side and tuck my legs under myself, taking in my settings. None of the furniture matches and the TV is incredibly outdated. The monster of a rug covering the living room floor is soft but faded with age. There's a large opening in the wall opposite the front door that leads in to a large country style kitchen. Behind the stairs which face the front door there's a hallway leading to god knows where. A large clock with different kinds of birds on it hangs on the wall across from where we're seated, ticking away the seconds noisily.

I glance over at Sebastian. He's hunched over and picking at a loose thread on the blanket, seemingly deep in thought. He notices me looking and sends me one of his crooked smiles.

"Nervous?" he asks with a small chuckle.

I answer honestly with a nod.

"Yeah, me too," he sighs, looking back at his lap. "I know I have to do this but that doesn't make it any less terrifying."

"What made you decide to get help?" The question slips from my lips without my permission. I don't want him to think I'm prying and I quickly explain, "I guess I'm curious since I can't imagine willingly sending myself away from everything that makes me feel better."

"Yeah, I couldn't imagine it either until about a week ago when I almost died from an overdose. I knew what was happening and managed yell for my roommate before I passed out. Told her I wanted help. She called 911." He looks down, regret in his prematurely aged features, "The withdrawals were terrible. Heroin is a bitch."

"Is that why you're insisting on wearing a hoodie? To cover the track marks and bruising, I mean," I pry without thinking about it but a moment later cringe realizing what I asked was way to personal.

He doesn't seem to mind though and shrugs. "I guess. They'll make me wear one here till everything fades or at least bandages on my arms to keep me from triggering anyone else." Sebastian looks at me again and gives me smirk, "I don't mind the question but I think I kind of have a right to ask what got you here now."

"My mom," I tell him, dodging what I know he's actually asking. For some reason I can't bring myself to utter 'cocaine and alcohol'. It may have become clear to me that I have problem but I can't bring myself to admit it. That would make everything too real.

"Getting to know each other?" A man with short brown hair dressed in a white polo shirt and khaki shorts comes down the stair case, interrupting us. He looks way too clean cut to be a patient.

"I'm Jeff," he introduces himself as he sits on a cushy flannel patterned chair next to the couch. For some reason I like him right away, he has a kind smile and eyes. "I'll be doing your intake." He flips through the papers for a moment before glancing at Sebastian. "I wish you didn't have to come back but I'm glad you're reaching out for help," he tells him with a gentle smile.

Sebastian gives what I've come to think of as his signature half smile back. "Yeah. Two times the charm. Heh heh," his laugh isn't genuine but more or less trying to break up awkward tension that he must be feeling.

"Better late than never, right?" Jeff says as he clicks out his pen and sets down the paper work. "You guys don't mind doing your intake together, right? I mean, you'll know more about each other than you'll ever want to over the next years, so might as well get a head start," he chuckles.

"Yeah, that's cool," Sebastian agrees. I nod my approval.

"Alright. So, Alois Trancy, born November 5th, 1997," Jeff looks at me for conformation of what he stated.

"Yes," I tell him.

"What?! Dude, you're way too young to be fucking around with that shit!" Sebastian cries, looking at me with extremely wide eyes.

I shrug. "You said you were here when you were 18," I remind him.

"Yeah, but, like," he sputters for a moment before finally deciding on, "that doesn't give you permission!"

"I didn't think I needed your permission," I mutter.

Jeff decides to break up our little disagreement. "Well, what's done is done, right? What matters is that you're both getting the help you need. Now, you'll have to take a drug test before you go to bed, but what do you think is your biggest problem substance?"

I look down and pick at the skin around my nails.

"Alois?" Jeff tries to get my attention.

I shrug.

"Don't feel like talking?"

My hair whips my face as I shake my head no, never looking up at Jeff and Sebastian who I'm sure are both staring at me.

He moves on to Sebastian, asking him how he's been and reconfirming all his information. I find out he's 25 and "definitely been better." That was a little obvious though, seeing as he's here.

It's getting close to midnight by the time they finish intake. I don't have to talk about what happened (though Jeff assures me I can't keep it to myself forever) but I do have to verify all my personal information.

"Why don't I show you to your rooms now?" Jeff says, "I know having your own room would be preferable, but you're both going to have roommates." I'm definitely not happy about that but I hope they'll put me with Sebastian since he doesn't seem to be a creep or weirdo.

Jeff leads us up the large staircase which empties into a long hall. It's dimly lit in a calming way and doors that I figure open to rooms are every 6 feet or so.

"Bathrooms are there," he points to the cracked door on one end of the hallway with light spilling from it, "and what we call the 'day room' is there," he points to the arch next to where the landing is that opens into what looks like a large room, though the lights are off so I can't really tell for sure. The bit of light from the hall does illuminate outlines of furniture. "There's a TV and a few video game systems in there, we also have some old board games and cards," Jeff tells us.

"But anyway, onto your rooms…" He knocks on a door a few down from the landing, with the name Claude in one of the slots, the other empty.

A guy probably about Sebastian's age with messy dyed plum colored hair answers in a few seconds. He's wearing a plain navy blue pullover sweat shirt and a pair of gray sweat pants.

"Yeah?"

"This is your new roommate, Sebastian," Jeff says to him as Sebastian gives an awkward wave.

"Oh, cool, come in," Claude gestures for Sebastian to follow him, though he seems unenthusiastic.

"I'll see you in the morning, I guess," Sebastian says to me, "goodnight and good luck."

"Yeah, you too," I force myself to give him a smile before he follows Claude into the mostly dark room. He's a nice guy and I'm admittedly disappointed that I don't get him as a roommate.

"And you'll be in here," Jeff knocks on the door on the opposite side of the hall closest to the bathrooms.

There's no response and after a minute Jeff knocks again. This time almost instantly the door is whipped open so hard it slams into the wall revealing a short and very thin blue haired kid wearing an eyepatch over his right eye sporting the angriest expression I may have ever seen.

"What?!"

"Eh…Alois, this is your roommate, Ciel."


	3. Chapter 3

"I said I _didn't_ want a roommate," Ciel growls, looking me up and down with his visible eye, frown only intensifying. He is terribly intimidating for someone who is barely five feet tall.

"I know you didn't but we have no where else to put him," Jeff explains.

"Should have put him with Adrian," Ciel grumbles, "They're both gay as fuck."

I open my mouth to say something but only a squawk comes out. Who does this guy think he is?

"Ciel," Jeff warns.

"Tch. You know it's true. That's actually probably why you didn't put them together. Don't want them buttfucking." He walks back into the room and flops down on what I assume is his bed, leaving me gawking at his rudeness. It's not like I'm a super nice person but this kid is just straight up crude and rude.

"I want to sleep so either get your ass in here or leave," Ciel sneers at me glaring, sitting up and crossing his legs. He pulls off the giant blue swear he was wearing. Now clad in only a black tank and gym shorts, I realize he's even skinnier than I originally thought he was. He's practically skin stretched tightly over small bones.

"Well?" Ciel prompts, impatient.

I'm not in any hurry to be alone with him but I feel this could go on for a while if I let it. "I think I can handle it from here," I say to Jeff, "but thanks for showing me to my room and everything." I slink past the doorway into the badly lit room.

"No problem, 'night Alois, Ciel," he nods at us and gives us a soft smile before leaving and shutting the door quietly behind him.

Ciel glares at me for a moment before pointing to the other twin bed and saying, "That's your bed," he points at the empty desk and dresser, "and that's your desk and dresser. Keep your faggot ass to your shit and keep it away from _mine_."

Pft. This kid is a piece of work. "Before you start throwing names around like that I'd suggest _your_ faggot ass take a look in the mirror," I shoot back.

"I am fucking gay, I just don't want a queer ass roommate trying to butt-fuck me."

You sure think highly of yourself, don't you?"

"I got paid $500 an hour for sex, obviously I'm pretty hot," he huffs, sticking his tongue out in a childish manner.

"That isn't something to be proud of, you dumbass. You were a fucking hooker."

"Yeah, and you _totally_ weren't," Ciel scoffs, narrowing his eyes.

As much as I would love to scream and punch him, his lucky guess surprises me and all I manage is a very high pitched, "WHAT?!"

He just shrugs. "If you've gotten to the point where you need rehab you've probably sold your body for drugs or money," he explains.

Guess it wasn't just a lucky guess. Ciel's intuition surprises me. I feel myself turning red and since I don't want to give him that satisfaction of knowing he's correct I turn away from him, pulling the covers of my bed back. They're surprisingly soft, unlike the scratchy hospital blankets.

Ciel is silent as I climb into my bed and curl up, facing away from him. I'm so exhausted and I don't have the energy or willpower to fight. I just want to sleep at this point. I still can't believe I'm here. What I wouldn't give to be back at my probably-now-ex's apartment, with a cigarette and bottle of booze and baggie of coke. It physically hurts to think about. I curl up tightly as I feel tears starting to leak from my eyes and my hands starting to shake. Though I'm desperately trying to stay calm tears still escape my eyes and I suddenly can't get air to my lungs.

Ciel must know I'm crying at this point and he shocks me when he says, "Want to borrow some clothes to sleep in?" The tone of his voice has completely changed.

When I open my mouth to thank him and take him up on the offer only a sob comes out.

"Here." What must be clothes is tossed on my bed. Slipping out of my bed on shaky legs, I know I must look a wreck with puffy blood shot eyes and tears and snot all over my face. I wipe my nose on my tee shirt as I pull it off, then move on to stripping myself of my fitted jeans. I can't quite bring myself to care that Ciel is in the room and looking at me. Actually, _staring_ at me would be a better way to put it. He does go red and turn away though as I pull off my underwear. For some reason I can't sleep with underwear on.

"Do you always wear women's panties?" he grumbles, climbing into his bed and laying on his stomach, eyes burning a hole in the wall in front of him.

I look down at the blue with white polka-dot underwear I have on. "So?" I mumble, "I like them better than men's…." For some reason I'm suddenly very embarrassed and insecure.

"God, you really are a faggot," Ciel chortles, still not looking away from the wall in front of him.

This time the word hurts a lot more, and I feel the tears coming back instantly and a loud sob escapes me.

As soon as hears me he throws himself out of bed and wraps his arms around me. I briefly wonder if he suffers from something along the lines of a mood disorder.

"Oh god, no, no, no," he says gently as he squeezes me tightly. "I didn't mean it like that, I swear."

It's when I go to hug him back I notice something hard pressing against my upper thigh.

I awkwardly clear my throat. "Uh, Ciel?"

"Yes?" he looks up at me, his visible eye holds a misleadingly innocent look.

"Um…are you…uh, hard?" I ask, unsure, turning redder than I think I ever have in my entire life.

"Sooooo? His facial expression has turned mischievous, "I find you attractive. And you're in underwear." Yeah, he definitely has a mood disorder.

His small cold and dry hands slip down to my hips, giving them a little squeeze. That's my cue to pull away. I do think he's attractive too - in a tragic way - but I'm far from in the mood to do anything sexual.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," I tell him, turning around and slipping my underwear off, before reaching to pull on the tank identical to his that he gave me. I know he's watching me because he lets out a groan as I bend over to pull my underwear off my feet. I'm strangley not uncomfortable. I realize I might be past the point of caring about anything as I pull the sweat pants on. They're big on me so they must be huge on Ciel.

When I turn around he's climbed back into bed and is facing away from me. He breathes a, "Goodnight, Alois." His voice is soft again.

As I climb into bed I flick off the night on the small table between out beds, drowning the room in darkness.

"Goodnight, Ciel."

I cry myself to sleep.

I'm woken up by a woman who must be staff member rudely walking in and yelling, "Wake up! Time to wake up and start the day!" Her voice is painfully loud and annoying and when she starts clapping her hands by my face I have the strong urge to smack her.

When I open my eyes to glare at her she moves on to Ciel, who responds with, "Shut the fuck up, Shauna." He's still facing the wall with his blanket fully covering him, including his face. He doesn't bother turning around when he tells her off.

"That's 5 points off for you, Ciel," her voice is still way too loud. I really, really hate this woman.

"GO!" he shouts, still not budging.

"If you don't get up you're going to go into negative points Ciel, and that means you can't leave your room at all," she warns him, her voice still not lowering.

"I don't care, LEAVE."

She sighs and turns back to me, "Up! Get up!"

"Fucking hell, I am up! It'd be impossible not to be with how fucking loud you are!" I find myself yelling at her.

"Next time you swear that's 5 points off for you, too," she says, pursing her lips and putting her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, yeah."

She lets out a loud huff as she finally leaves the room.

I climb out of bed, groaning as I feel my bones crack.

"Uh, so, what do we do in the mornings?" I ask Ciel, hoping his mood has swung back to good.

He answers a simple, "Breakfast," still not turning over or making any move to get up.

"Where is that?" I ask.

He rips the covers off so fast I startle.

"Do I have to do everything for you? What are you? Fucking helpless?" he growls. He's undeniably still in a terrible mood.

I must not have noticed in the dim lighting last night (or not been looking very closely) but his face is covered in semi-healed sores.

"What happened to your face?" The thought slips out as words.

"What happened to your life?" he counters, only sounding angrier, "GET THE FUCK OUT."

Before I know it he's out of bed and weakly hitting me (though it seems he's doing it as hard as he can) and pushing me out the door. I'm too shocked to retaliate. By the time I register what just happened I've been pushed out into the hall and Ciel has slammed the door behind me.

I'm staring at the door with wide eyes in complete shock when I'm bumped into by someone leaving the bathroom.

"Oh, hey there!" a cheery voice says. I turn around to see a boy who looks about 16 and has to have the most feminine body I've ever seen. He's maybe an inch or two shorter than I am and his brown hair is tinged with reddish highlights and his eyes are an amber color. The hoodie he has on is black and frame fitting and he's wearing what are obviously women's pajama shorts. Minus the femininess he reminds me of Luka. "You must be one of the new guys! What's your name? I'm Adrian," he finishes with a little giggle.

"Alois," I introduce myself, a little off-put by his extremely cheery attitude.

"Did you get stuck with Ciel for a roommate?" he asks raising his eyebrows. His face is the same face that the girls at my school had when they would gossip.

"Uh, yeah."

"Ooo, I'm sorry! He's a little crazy," Adrian tells me what I already know. Leaning closer to me, "What did he do?"

"Erm, his mood just sort of changed every two minutes," I take a step away from Adrian. I really don't feel like talking about my psycho roommate, especially first thing in the morning.

Adrian giggles but must sense I want to get off the topic since he changes the subject, "Oh! You must need someone to show you were breakfast is, right?"

"Uh, yeah, if you could take me that'd great. Just let me use the bathroom first?"

He nods and smiles as I slip past him into the bathroom to do my business.

I discover the house is even bigger than I originally thought as Adrian leads me back down the giant staircase, through the living room and down a long hall into a nicely furnished dining room.

Rather than one large table there are five medium sized round ones which each seat about six people. The room is loud with talk and the clanking of silverware. Almost every seat is taken already but I see Sebastian who is sitting with Claude and a scruffy looking blonde guy. He notices me at the same moment I notice him and he eagerly waves Adrian and I over.

I carefully weave my way around chairs and people, Adrian trotting happily behind me and pushing past me when we get to said table. He plops himself in the chair next to Sebastian leaving me stuck between him and the scruffy blonde guy.

"Hi," Adrian giggles to Sebastian, "Are you the other new guy? You're really cute."

Sebastian turns a bit red and chokes on his scrambled eggs a little before clearing his throat and answering, "Uh, yeah. Heh. Just got in last night."

"First night is the hardest," Adrian says.

"Yeah, but I've been here before," Sebastian clarifies, looking down in what seems to be embarrassment.

"AWWW. Well I'm glad you're back and getting help!" Adrian throws his arms around Sebastian.

Sebastian just awkwardly pats him, otherwise ignoring the overly enthusiastic kid and instead asks me, "How was your night?"

"Oh, fine, I guess," I mumble, glancing up at him through shield my hair has created. His hair has been washed and his skin isn't oily. He's shaved too. He must have rested well since his eyes are less blood shot and the bags beneath them aren't as bad. Sebastian looks much better this morning and I tell him as much. A big and genuine smile spreads across his face as he thanks me.

"Last night was yer first night?" the scruffy blonde guy speaks up in a southern accent, sitting up out of his bored slouch as he speaks. His short hair is strewn in every which way and stubble covers his jaw.

"Yeah."

"First night is always the hardest," he echoes Adrian. "I'm Bard, by the way."

I notice he smells like tobacco and I have to force myself to respond, "Alois," before asking, "Can we smoke cigarettes here?"

"Yeah, but only if you're over 18," Adrian tells me.

FUCK. That's another 3 months away. I say as much.

"I'll sneak you some," Adrian smiles mischievously with a tilt of his head.

"You're over 18?" I ask him, shocked. I thought there was no way he was older than 16 and I would have thought maybe younger if 16 wasn't the minimum age to be here.

"Yep! I'll be 23 next month!" he laughs at my shock before changing topics and asking, "Want some breakfast?" he points to a buffet of numerous breakfast foods.

"No thanks, I'm really not hungry," I lie, ignoring the grumbling of my stomach. I'm only four pounds away from my goal weight.

"Well, actually, you have to eat all three meals here and a snack between each one and before bed. Something about eating disorder," Adrian says the last part in a somewhat dreamy voice as he gets up and wanders towards the food.

I look to Sebastian with fear in my eyes, hoping he'll tell me Adrian is bull shitting me.

He just gives a half smile and confirms, "It's true. But you're underweight really; you could do to gain at least 15 pounds."

Me? Underweight? I feel huge.

"I'm really not hungry," I lie again, "maybe they just won't notice if I skip breakfast."

"Skip breakfast, huh?" A woman's voice says from behind me. I turn around to see a woman with short red hair standing behind me. The card clipped to the pocket of her shirt tells me her name is Ann.

"Yeah, I'm just not that hungry," I repeat the lie a third time.

"Mmm," I can tell she's scrutinizing me just by her gaze, "nice try, but that is far from the first time I've heard that excuse. Plus, you're underweight and I can practically hear your stomach growling from across the room. Let's go get you some food."

She starts to walk to the buffet but quickly realizes I'm not following her. "If you refuse to eat I'll have to take 15 points away, and that would cause you to be in your room for 15 hours straight except for bathroom breaks," she sighs when I still don't budge and adds. "I doubt you want to be stuck that long with your roommate." At that I'm out of my chair and following her to the buffet so fast I might rival the speed of light.

She chuckles at that, "Yeah, Ciel can be a handful." That's the understatement of the year. "Has anyone explains points to you yet?" she asks as she hands me a plate ("The eggs are really good!")

I shake my head no.

"You start with zero points. You can get points for doing things you're supposed to, eating a meal will get you one point, talking in group gets you five, etcetera, etcetera. Get to 50 and you can leave the building and explore the grounds (though you can always sit on the porch with supervision), and if you can stay at 90 and above for 3 months you're eligible for discharge, though you'll have to be here a full two years at least. You loose points by doing less positive things or breaking rules (get some sausage and fruit too), like expressing your anger negatively, or skipping meals or not using group to talk. If you go into negative points you'll be confined to your room for as many hours as points you've gone under and you'll have to bring your points back up to 0 by talking to the therapists and counselors (get some orange juice) and doing therapy assignments," she finishes explaining. "Seem easy enough?"

I nod, more focused on all the calories I'm about to consume rather than what she's saying. I have a feeling I'm going to be on room confinement very quickly.

She seems to sense my distress about the food as she walks my back to the table. "You don't have to eat everything. Just finish your juice and take three bites of each thing and I'll count it," she tries to comfort me.

I take as tiny bites as possible. I can tell Ann is less than happy about it but she doesn't say anything.

Just as I'm finishing eating she walks to the doorway of the dining room and claps her hands. "Time for freetime! Remember your groups are in 30 minutes," she looks over where Sebastian and I are sitting, "Sebastian, Alois, please come with me so I can inform you where you'll be going."

I am far from ready to talk about everything. I can feel my hands start to shake. I can't do this. I'm never going to get out of here.


End file.
